Oh, Sam, this is going to be hard for you.
I am going into the West, and you must let me go, but you can't. You've never let me go.
Not when first I decided to leave my home; you'd already been watching me, making sure I couldn't go off without you. Not when I took the quest, accepted my burden, accepted my fate, when you could have gone home, could have been saved from so much terror and pain. It was my burden. It should never have been yours.
You wouldn't let me go above the falls of Rauros. I knew, then, that I could not risk anyone else's life, mind, or freedom, not when I could still save them. It was my burden. It was my quest. How could I continue to endanger my friends, my cousins, you, all blameless? I knew I had to go, and I knew I had to go alone. But you wouldn't let me, and I suppose I knew that, too, when I agreed to let you come, because nothing I could say or do would dissuade you.
Not even when you thought I was dead and gone, laid low by Shelob's sting, would you leave me. You faced the monster, and defeated it; and you took up my burden as I lay cold and pale on the rocks. But still you held on, still you returned, still you wouldn't leave. Not when all the fate of Middle-Earth hung around your neck and you knew you had to go, had to go on, on your lonely journey. You came back, risked everything - your life, your freedom, the world. And you found me again. How can I describe what I felt then, when I heard your voice through my despair, when you brought me out of that cell and gave me back my will? I don't know why the Valar decided to give me the gift of your loyalty, but I never deserved it, and oh, my friend, I'm so sorry for the pain I caused you, the terror you had to endure in those black mountains, that black tunnel, that black tower, that black land.
And on the slopes of Orodruin amid the fire and the destruction you stood by me, and I was grieved to see you, for on that mountain my sun set in a gleam of red half-veiled by the retreating darkness, but yours still shone pure and golden, not yet at the peak of a clear sky. And I was finished, come at last to the end of my dark road, but your life was still ahead of you. Grief tempered my joy at my newfound freedom; your road led on, far into the future, back to the green fields and blue skies, but you had chosen to walk with me on mine, which led only to fire and ruin, and now we had reached its end. I was ready to die. You were not. But because of me, you were going to anyway.
But then it was that the unimaginable came to pass: we were saved, snatched out of the flames and darkness and brought to rest once more among the trees and the grass and the flowers in Ithilien. And when I woke, and learned that you were saved, I was glad, for now your feet could be set upon their own path once more, and it was not the end for you. Your sun had not yet reached its noon and now it would shine until it set in its own time. But I wondered, sometimes, why I had been saved, for I knew I was falling below the horizon, and I that dwell now in the twilight. But none of the others wished to let me go, it seemed, and so I stayed, thinking, hoping, that maybe it wasn't the end for me, allowing myself to pretend that my twilight was merely a dark cloud that veiled the bright face of Anor for a time before moving on.
It was not to be, however, and after October the sixth that year I had no more illusions. My time was over, it is over, I have only lingered past my time, the streaks of color that refuse to leave the sky even after the sun is lost behind the hills, light that does not wish to give the night to the stars. But Ithil rises ever higher, night deepens, and I fade.
The Elves understand. I don't think I quite know how to express it.
And now here we are, on the road to the Sea. The Shire has been saved, the brief shadow laid upon it lifted. I had small part in it, that was your victory, and Merry's, and Pippin's, my task is complete. It is not mine to lead, strike, restore, build; my friends, these tasks are yours. You followed me into darkness, and now you have led me home, led the charge, you no longer follow me or any other - you have grown so much.
I will never forgive myself for stealing your innocence and forcing adulthood upon you.
I should have died on that mountain. But you have a chance, Sam, a chance that I lost, a chance that was taken from me by that ring, that blade, that sting, those teeth. I am wounded, I am broken, night is falling, the colors are finally fading to black. But you are free, and whole, and so is the Shire, and you can be happy; you still can grow, your sun is not yet westering. You will have a life of peace and prosperity, joy that is not marred by the memory of the darkness but rather heightened by it. Perhaps some gift of foresight has been given to me ere I leave these shores, for I can see your future before you, and it is so bright, so full of happiness, once I'm gone, once you have let me go.
Please, do not let me hurt you any more than I have. I see the worry in your eyes when you look at me, I can no longer count the times you've come running to me when I find myself screaming in the night, and your kindness is why I didn't tell you when I was sick in March. I couldn't bear to cause you pain, because I knew you would worry, and you would want to help, but there's nothing you can do, and it only hurts you to try. My poor Sam, you can't save me any more than you can stop the sun from setting, for so my path has been laid. Don't let me keep you in the shadows. Don't let me tear you apart, for how could I bear hurting you, you who have only ever helped me?
I'll be leaving soon. Please, my friend, do not grieve for me. I have no place on these shores. The Shire is no longer my home, but it is yours, and you must live the life that was taken from me. You have your Rosie, now, and Elanor, and those that will come, and you are still tied to Middle-Earth, but I am not, the things that bound me were burned away in the fires of Mordor. Oh, Sam, I can't stay. The quest, the Ring took all I had and now you must let me leave. I will fade into the West and perhaps we will not see each other again in this world, but you'll be all right. You don't need me anymore. You have grown. Please don't call me master, for you are not a servant.
There has never a better or more loyal friend than you, Samwise Gamgee, and I hope you understand why I have to leave, and that I am sorry, so very sorry, for the pain I have caused you. Let me go, live your life to its fullest, and be happy. May your years be long and blessed, and may my memory never darken your heart, but please know that I am free, and in the one place where I can perhaps be healed, and that you have done for me all that you could and more.
Namarië, dear friend. May no shadow fall over your sun.